Page 88 of Franco DeLuca


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“Those are my clothes,” I said.

“Yeah, Vigo told Ettore what happened. He got them out of your suitcase. He also brought three duffel bags full of weapons.” She placed the shirt in Franco’s grip.

“Good. We needed the guns,” Franco said.

My head rested on Franco’s lap. His green eyes bore into mine. “You scared me.”

“I know. But I’m still here.” A small smile teetered on my lips.

“I can’t believe that motherfucker shot you,” Franco growled, pulling the shirt over my head, then over my breasts and stomach. My dress covered the lower half of my body.

“Me either,” I huffed as my hand flew over the throbbing bruise on my chest.

“Shot who?” Kitura asked from the doorway. Damon and Orson stood behind her.

Vigo turned his rifle on my team.

Damon’s and Orson’s eyes were the size of saucers.

“They’re with me, Vigo,” I said.

My team stepped over Bumble and Jerod’s bodies as they stalked toward me. I just noticed their bodies for the first time. Dad killed his best men.

“What happened in here?” Damon asked.

“My father tried to kill everyone, including me. He ran into the tunnels.”

Damon bit his lower lip, gripping his rifle tighter. “We’re ready to get that motherfucker.”

My arms shook as I tried pulling myself into a sitting position.

“Kennedy, you need to rest. Bonnie will get ice for that wound.” Franco held me close. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.

“Franco, no. I’ll push through the pain.”

“A doctor has to check your injury.” Franco’s hand brushed my cheek.

“Franco, kiss it and make it better,” I cooed, staring up into his bottle green eyes.

His jaw twitched, and he winced. Why did he wince? Was he injured?

Franco leaned over lightly, pressing his pink lips against the wound through my shirt. I didn’t care that Bonnie and my team hovered over us.

Having my husband’s lips on my body made the situation better. Just knowing he was here.

“Franco, are you ok?” I whispered.

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s hunt down your father and kill him.”

I was ready to take out my father’s men and, most importantly, him. He shot the wrong bitch.

“Yes, I’m ready to go on a killing spree.” Dark laughter left my throat.



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